The Stand-In's Revenge: Begging on His Knees

Everyone treated me as Margot's placeholder. Everyone except me. I played the clown in their joke.

Rain lashed down the day I walked out on Julian. "You sure about this?" he asked. "I don't do second chances." I didn't hesitate. I turned and walked away, clean and sharp.

Later, people caught the arrogant Julian trailing a woman like a feral dog. He took a slap to the jaw in broad daylight and still refused to leave.

Chapter 1 I sat glued to the sofa, tracking Julian as he strode into the living room. He shrugged off his overcoat, tossed it aside, and pulled me flush against his chest.

I stiffened, pressing my palms against his chest to break the hold. "What's wrong?" He didn't let go.

His hands slid down to grip my hips, pulling me right back as his lips brushed a soft, lingering kiss against my cheek. "Where were you?

Why didn't you answer my texts?" I tilted my chin up, scanning his face for a flicker of guilt. A microexpression. Anything. Nothing. Just that flawless, maddeningly calm mask.

Julian pulled his phone from his pocket, his long fingers swiping aimlessly across the screen. "Ah. It was on silent.

Missed them." He dropped the phone onto the coffee table. "Don't be mad, yeah? I'll buy you that new designer bag tomorrow." I stared at the black screen.

The screen was just a pathetic wall of my own texts, doubletexting, tripletexting into the void. He barely replied anymore.

I was used to the silence, but the sting was sharp tonight. "Today was my first solo performance.

You're the only person I wanted in that audience." He hooked a finger under my chin, his voice dropping an octave. "My bad. I'll make the next one.

Did you eat?" I nodded, the heat of unshed tears pooling in my eyes. His gaze darkened, tracking the moisture on my lashes.

Without warning, his arms banded around my waist and under my knees, scooping me clean off the floor. "Since you're full," he murmured, his chest vibrating against mine, "let's work it off." Heat flared under my skin, rushing straight to the tips of my ears.

A lazy, wicked smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Go put that stage costume back on.

I want to see exactly how beautiful you looked tonight." The temperature in the bedroom spiked and stayed there.

Flesh slapped against flesh, the air thick with the scent of his cologne and the ragged sound of our breathing. By the end of it, my mind was hazy.

I didn't have the physical strength to interrogate him about missing my show. Maybe I was too exhausted. Or maybe I was just too terrified to ask.

That was the reality of my quiet, pathetic devotion to Julian. It had all started at rock bottom.

My parents needed cash to bail my brother out of a crushing mortgage debt, so they sold me to a wealthy, sadistic older man. They ignored my screaming.

They didn't care if I survived the night. The guy's last wife hadn't. He had beaten her until her heart stopped. I tried to run, but my parents dragged me back by my hair.

They drugged my drink and dumped me onto his hotel bed like a piece of meat. When the old man dropped his guard, I grabbed a vase and hit him with it.

I scrambled out of the room, my legs trembling violently. The drugs were kicking in, blurring the hallway lights into blinding streaks of neon.

I didn't know how far I ran until I slammed hard into a solid chest. I blinked through the haze, and my breath hitched.

Julian. "Get me out of here," I choked out, my fingers curling whiteknuckled into his lapels. "Please." Julian arched a brow, a flicker of genuine shock crossing his features.

Those magnetic, devastating eyes swept over my disheveled state.

He slid a warm, heavy hand around my waist, anchoring me, and dipped his head close to my ear. "You sure about this?" I knew exactly what he was offering. The unspoken price.

I let out a weak, desperate sound. "Mm." A low chuckle vibrated in his throat. He swept me up and carried me straight to his private penthouse.

The wreckage of a wild, breathless night surrounded us. I lay frozen beside him, watching his chest rise and fall in the quiet morning light.

The man I had spent seven years obsessing over was right here. His eyes were shut. His striking profile was mere inches away, close enough to finally touch.

I held my breath, lifting a trembling hand to trace the arch of his brow. My fingertips grazed the harsh line of his jaw, the softness of his bottom lip. He had no idea. No one did.

Seeing him, a burst of joy filled my body from the inside out. I stared at him, memorizing the slope of his nose and the shadow of his eyelashes, drowning in the temporary high.

Then, forcing my bruised, exhausted body off the mattress, I slipped out the door before the sun came up. Chapter 2 The second I graduated, my parents changed the locks.

I hustled three grueling shifts a day just to bleed enough cash for studio time. That was how I collided with Julian again. I was doing bottle service in a neonsoaked VIP lounge.

He lounged in the center booth, thumbing blindly through his phone, surrounded by trustfund boys.

The heavy bass vibrated against my ribs as I carried the tray in. "Hey, sweetheart, pop this for—holy shit." A guy with bleached silver hair choked on his words, his finger dropping to point dead at me.

The music seemed to flatline. Every pair of eyes in the velvet booth snapped to my face. A chaotic blend of shock, pity, and dark amusement rippled across the booth.

Then, in total unison, their heads swiveled toward Julian. He finally lifted his head. Those dark, heavy eyes dragged over my uniform.

A low, raspy exhale of a laugh vibrated in his chest. I tightly gripped the bottle of red wine in my hands, standing there at a loss. I couldn't breathe.

My mind went completely blank, mechanical hands pouring the drinks in a suffocating daze before I finally escaped. I stumbled out of the booth the second I finished.

I didn't let out a real breath until my shift ended hours later. Pushing through the club's back exit into the freezing alley, I froze.

A sleek, midnightblack Maybach idled against the curb. The tinted window glided down, framing the sharp, merciless line of Julian's jaw. "Get in," he commanded. No inflection.

No room to argue. The leather seats swallowed me as his driver pulled into traffic, heading straight for the city's most exclusive hotel. My pulse hammered against my throat.

I knew exactly what I was walking into. Hours later, the sheets were a tangled wreck. I dragged my clothes back on, my muscles aching, ready to slip out into the dawn.

A heavy grip clamped around my wrist, pinning me in place. "Your name." "Piper," I whispered to the floorboards.

His thumb dragged a slow, rough circle over the sensitive skin of my inner wrist.

A shiver spiked down my spine. "Pretty," he murmured, his voice thick with sleep and something darker. "Want to be mine?" Julian narrowed his eyes, tracking the pulse jumping wildly at my throat.

He wasn't asking me on a date. He was offering a transaction. He wanted a beautiful little secret to keep on his payroll. The word 'no' turned to ash in my mouth. Seven years.

Seven years of starving for a man who didn't even know I existed. If this was my only shot to breathe his air—to exist in his world as a nameless, hidden obsession—I would take it.

I would gladly let the fire burn me down to nothing. I shook the memory out of my head, grabbed my duffel, and rushed to the dance company. My solo last night had a good reception.

The directors had secured a single spot for an international showcase. We all had to upload a choreography clip, and the internet would vote for the lead dancer. I needed this.

The winner secured a direct mentorship with the best contemporary dancer on the globe. It was the ultimate golden ticket.

I stripped down to my leotard and dropped into a split on the mat to stretch. "Heard Julian didn't even show up to your little solo yesterday.

Aww, you poor thing." Tinsley loomed over me. She didn't even try to mask the toxic gleam in her eyes. "Don't kid yourself, Piper. You're just a warm body to him.

He'll drop you the second he gets bored." A sharp, physical ache splintered through my chest.

I bit the inside of my cheek hard enough to taste copper and kept stretching, refusing to give her a reaction. Tinsley sneered.

She stepped past me, slamming her shoulder into mine with enough force to send me stumbling off balance. "Take a guess, will the lead dancer be you this time?" she asked with a smirk, tossing her hair before strutting off with her clique.

She had marked me as a target the second I walked into this studio. A walking red flag who lived to tear me down.

Chapter 3 Tinsley was the only one in the company who knew about Julian and me. She ran in those same elite circles.

She despised me, fully convinced I was just sleeping my way to the top. The sixfigure Maybach idling by the curb after rehearsals didn't exactly help my case. It drove her insane.

She easily gaslit half the company into freezing me out. I didn't care. Defending myself was a waste of breath. People only see the red flags they want to see.

Yeah, Julian opened doors for me. But I bled for my spot in this company. He only got me the audition; my talent secured the contract.

I dragged in a sharp breath and poured every ounce of myself into that audition tape. The driver was waiting outside when I finally left the studio.

I slid into the leather backseat. Empty. "Where is he?" "He had to fly out of the country for business," the driver replied.

I nodded, pulling my phone from my bag to shoot him the voting link. "Up for the lead solo! Cast a vote for me?" I stared at the screen until my eyes burned. Nothing.

I checked again when I unlocked my apartment door. Still nothing. Just my pathetic text, hanging in the void. A tight, burning sensation clawed up my throat.

The sting behind my eyes was sharp and unforgiving. Tinsley's venomous words echoed in the dark. "Just a warm body." A cold knot of panic tightened in my gut.

Trying to shake off the spiraling anxiety, I gently patted my cheeks just as the front door clicked open, practically launching myself at him.

His heavy arms caught me effortlessly midair. "Missed me that much?" he murmured, pressing a rough, lingering kiss to my mouth. Amusement danced in his dark eyes.

His grip tightened on my waist while his security detail dumped a mountain of designer bags onto the coffee table. Cartier boxes. Chanel dust bags. A small fortune in hush money.

I nodded against his chest, inhaling the intoxicating scent of cedar and expensive musk clinging to his suit. "Try this on." He pulled an emeraldgreen slip dress from the pile and pressed the silk into my palms.

I stepped out of the bedroom a few minutes later. Julian's gaze snapped to me, his pupils blowing wide for a fraction of a second.

A slow, devastating smirk curved his lips. "Beautiful. It suits you perfectly. Wear it more." Heat rushed to my cheeks. My pulse kicked into a frantic, dizzying rhythm.

It was a modest, vintage cut—totally opposite to my usual aesthetic. But hearing that raw approval in his voice? I mentally vowed to wear it every chance I got.

He didn't waste another second. He backed me up against the bedroom door, his mouth crashing down on the sensitive skin below my ear.

His breathing fractured into ragged, heavy pants. The rough pad of his thumb dug into my hip bone. He looked at me with a dark, feral intensity—like he wanted to consume me whole.

At that point, my votes were far ahead. The lead spot was practically mine. The girls who usually avoided the crossfire between Tinsley and me suddenly flocked to my barre.

They showered me with praise, practically begging for tips on my grand jeté. It was jarring. For the first time, the studio didn't feel like a warzone.

I wiped the sweat from my brow and pushed open the locker room door after training.

Tinsley was already there, leaning against my locker with pure venom in her eyes. "Don't get cocky," she hissed. "The polls aren't closed yet.

That spot isn't yours." Then, a sick, victorious smile twisted her lips. "Oh, by the way. You'll need to call an Uber tonight. Julian isn't coming for you.

After all… 'she's' back." Chapter 4 "Who?" My brain snagged on the pronoun. She dropped the bomb and strutted off, a sickeningly triumphant smirk plastered on her face.

I shoved my gear into my duffel and pushed through the heavy glass doors of the studio. The curb was empty. No idling engine. No black Maybach.

A cold spike of panic nailed my feet to the pavement. I yanked my phone out, dialing Julian's number once, twice, three times. Straight to voicemail. My heart sank.

I hit redial one last time. The line clicked open, but the voice on the other end wasn't Julian's. "Hello? Miss Piper? This is Julian's assistant. He's tied up at the moment.

Can I take a message?" I stared blankly at the concrete, the bitter taste of ash coating my tongue. "No.

Nothing." I caught an Uber back home, ate, took a shower, and went straight to bed. Hours later, the metallic click of the bedroom door latch sliced through the dark.

The mattress dipped, and a heavy, furnacehot body dragged me backward against a broad chest. "Piper." His voice was a gravelly, wrecked whisper against my neck.

A faint scent of expensive bourbon and rain clung to his skin. His hands were impossibly gentle, mapping my waist like I was something fragile.

I twisted around, meeting his gaze in the shadows. His eyes were pitchblack, carrying a dark, heavy weight that pulled me right under. A physical jolt ripped through my chest.

Every nerve ending in my body flared to life, humming with a desperate, pathetic hope. "I love you," he breathed, his mouth grazing mine. The air punched out of my lungs.

Hot, fast tears spilled over my lashes, soaking the pillowcase. Seven years. He had never said those words. Not once.

I locked my arms around his neck, burying my face in his collarbone, pulling him so flush against me there wasn't a millimeter of space left.

If this was a hallucination, I wanted it to be terminal.

We stood in a rigid semicircle on the hardwood floor, the suffocating silence broken only by the director holding the final poll results. "And our lead dancer… Tinsley." The words didn't compute.

A violent, highpitched ringing hijacked my ears. My hands shook as I pulled out my phone, frantically refreshing the leaderboard.

Tinsley, who had been dead last twentyfour hours earlier, was sitting at the very top. A mathematical impossibility. Murmurs ripped through the studio.

The other girls threw confused, sideways glances. My nails dug so hard into my palms the skin nearly split. I looked up, catching Tinsley's eye. She flashed a slow, lethal smirk.

A silent, vicious reminder of exactly what her trust fund could buy. Cold reality slammed into my ribs. Oxygen refused to enter my lungs.

I slipped out the back exit before the first tear even fell, my chest caving in with every step. I wandered blindly along the riverfront, the biting wind whipping my hair.

The pavement started to tilt. Black spots swarmed my peripheral vision. The concrete rushed up to meet me, and the brutal roar of the city snapped to absolute silence.

I blinked into the blinding, sterile fluorescent lights of an ER bay. A doctor in faded scrubs stood at the foot of my bed with a gentle smile. "Your blood pressure tanked.

You need to manage your stress levels, sweetie. It's dangerous for the baby." The monitors beeped in a steady, rhythmic taunt. The room spun. A baby. I was carrying Julian's baby.

My hand moved completely on its own, pressing flat against the cold cotton of the hospital gown over my stomach. A suffocating wave of panic and wonder washed over me.

I Ubered back to the penthouse and collapsed onto the mattress, entirely paralyzed.

The crushing defeat at the studio collided with the lifealtering news, sparking a desperate need for Julian. I needed him.

I needed his heavy arms around me, needed him to fix the rigged vote, needed to watch his face when I told him we were having a child.

I scrubbed the dried tears off my cheeks and tore through the closet. My fingers bypassed my usual clothes, snagging autonomously on the emeraldgreen slip dress. The one he liked.

The one that made his eyes go dark. Chapter 5 I coaxed the information out of his assistant until she finally dropped the address.

He was drinking with his circle at an exclusive underground lounge. I didn't waste a second. I reached for the heavy brass handle of the private room. A voice bled through the wood.

The silverhaired guy from the club. "Julian. Tinsley pulled some strings and hijacked your girl's spot. You're just gonna let that slide?

You aren't worried your little kept woman is gonna throw a fit?" I froze, my hand hovering over the metal. I couldn't see Julian's face.

A low, abrasive laugh vibrated through the door. "Everyone's on their own," Julian replied, his tone chillingly flat. "If she has the talent, she can claw it back herself.

She doesn't get to use me as a crutch." The silverhaired guy clicked his tongue. "Right. Would you be that damn calm if it was Margot taking the hit?

What happens if Piper figures out she's just a placeholder? What if she bolts?" I stood frozen in place, unable to believe what I was hearing.

Raucous laughter erupted inside the room. They were howling. Mocking my profound, pathetic stupidity. A jagged void ripped open in the center of my chest. A placeholder.

I was just a replica. My heart sank like it was plunged into ice, and my feet felt frozen to the ground. I stood there, masochistically waiting for the final blow.

The silence stretched. "She won't run," Julian finally said, his voice slow and arrogant. "Where the hell else would she go?" My brain flatlined. I had no control over my limbs.

I sprinted blindly away from the lounge, the neon streetlights blurring into violent streaks. I practically collided with a wall of designer perfume. Tinsley and her clique.

Her lips curled into a vicious, knowing smirk. "Well, look who it is. Since you made the trip, why not step inside?" I dropped my chin, pivoting sharply to bypass her.

She sidestepped, blocking my escape. "What's the rush? Actually, there's someone you absolutely need to meet. This is Margot.

Gold medalist at the Varna International Ballet Competition." For a split second, static filled my ears. Margot. The name collided with the silverhaired guy's words.

My neck snapped up. A woman stepped out from the shadows behind Tinsley. She wore an emeraldgreen slip dress. She possessed an effortless, untouchable elegance.

But that didn't matter. I stared at her face. A face that looked strikingly similar to mine stared right back at me. "Hi." Margot offered a warm, flawless smile. My jaw locked.

The blood drained completely from my face, leaving my skin ashwhite. Margot tilted her head, her brow furrowing with perfect, polished concern. "Are you alright? You look awful.

Do you need to go inside and sit down?" I shook my head frantically. My pulse hammered against my skull. I just needed to run. Tinsley closed the gap.

She leaned in, her toxic breath brushing my ear. "You really didn't know? Tonight is Margot's welcomehome party.

Julian didn't pick you up last week because he was at the airport waiting for her. His 'business trip'? He flew out just to watch her perform. I told you to know your place.

You're a standin, Piper. A cheap, pathetic knockoff." The eyes of Tinsley's entourage burned into my skin. Pity. Disgust. Sick amusement. I was the punchline.

A sharp, agonizing sting pierced my chest, spiderwebbing through every bone in my body. A fractured, hollow sound ripped from my throat. I was laughing. So this was the truth.

Everyone knew I was Margot's placeholder. Everyone but me. Chapter 6 I didn't even feel the rain hitting my face. Thunder cracked open the night sky.

Seconds later, the clouds completely gave out. Heavy, bruising drops battered my skin. By the time I unlocked the penthouse door, I was completely soaked.

I stood under the scalding shower until my skin turned red, then walked straight into the bedroom and yanked my suitcase out. Packing took less than five minutes.

I only grabbed what I brought with me. Nothing he bought. Nothing he owned. My eyes snagged on a sleek black Amex lying on the nightstand. Julian's card.

My first instinct was to leave it. But then the memories hit—the gaslighting, the manipulation, the absolute joke my life had become.

I slipped the card into my pocket without a single ounce of guilt. Call it severance.

I wasn't walking away emptyhanded after letting him sleep with me for so long without getting anything in return. I sat on the living room sofa, staring at the wall.

Three in the morning. The front door finally clicked open.

The heavy, sharp stench of scotch hit the air before he even stepped into the room. "Come here." Julian reached out, expecting me to fall right into his chest like always.

I stepped back. His hands grabbed empty air. "We're done," I said, staring straight into his dark, merciless eyes. "What now?

Throwing another tantrum?" He let out a dry sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose like I was nothing more than a headache. I looked at the man I had worshipped for seven years.

A wave of sorrow washed over me. I was so insanely greedy. I actually thought letting him use my body would somehow make him keep my heart. But Julian didn't have a heart.

He was entirely hollow. His gaze darkened. He finally registered the suitcase standing by the door. "Give me a reason." The command was flat.

Not a single spark of emotion in those eyes. That absolute, chilling apathy snapped something inside me. The bile rose in my throat. This was him.

I could set myself on fire right in front of him, and he wouldn't even blink. "What exactly am I to you?" My voice cracked, rising an octave. "A toy? Wait, no.

I shouldn't have said we're breaking up.

You can't break up with a kept woman." I dug my nails into my palms, the physical sting anchoring me. "I could have let that go, since being your canary was my willing choice." My breath hitched violently. "But a replica?

A standin for Margot? I refuse to be her ghost." It was the loudest I had ever spoken in this penthouse. But there was no victory in it.

Hot, humiliating tears breached my lash line, searing my freezing cheeks. God, I was pathetic. Seven years of starving for breadcrumbs.

Seven years of letting him ghost me and treat me like an afterthought. I had completely annihilated my own dignity.

His entire circle must have been laughing at me the whole time. "Are you questioning me?" Julian took a slow step forward.

The dim overhead light slashed across the brutal, arrogant angles of his jaw. A slow, icy smirk curved his lips. "Have you thought this through? You really want to break up?

Because I don't do second chances." I didn't say another word. I grabbed the handle of my suitcase and walked out the door. Clean. Sharp. I stepped right out into the raging storm.

The fever dream was over. Five years later. A tall, impossibly handsome man shifted a little girl effortlessly onto his hip. I turned my head.

My daughter, Nova, happily chewed on a strawberry lollipop, completely safe against Rowan's chest. I smiled, nodding at them. Five years.

My boots had finally hit American soil again. The toxic, suffocating memories of this city instantly tried to claw their way back up my throat.

But the old Piper—the girl who would have broken down and cried—was dead. I exhaled. I was finally free. Chapter 7 I maxed out the Amex Julian had left me.

Packing my entire life into a single suitcase, I bought a oneway ticket to Italy. My nervous system was completely shot.

I spent the first few months in a foreign country sobbing until my ribs ached, staring blankly at the ceiling until dawn. Being Margot's standin had completely gutted me.

The next five years were a grueling blur of physical therapy, waitressing in cramped cafes, and learning how to be a mother while still a broken girl myself.

Every time Nova kicked in my stomach, it was a brutal reminder of the man I left behind, but also the only reason I kept breathing. Healing wasn't some beautiful montage.

It was brutal. It took a painfully long time to piece myself back together and figure out how to actually value my own life.

I had almost walked into a clinic to terminate the pregnancy. But sitting in that sterile waiting room, I couldn't do it. I had absolutely no one left in the world.

This baby was my only real family. I had the cash. I could raise a child on my own. Nova became my anchor. She was my salvation, and I was hers. "Piper.

Hey, where'd you go?" Rowan's gentle voice pulled me out of the memory. He smiled, his eyes warm and grounding.

We had flown back to the States specifically so I could meet his family. The second they found out we had eloped, his parents relentlessly pressured him to bring his new wife home.

The family's private chauffeur was already idling outside the terminal, ready to take us straight to the estate. Rowan's extended family was massive.

They threw an intimate, insanely expensive banquet just to welcome us. I was entirely overwhelmed by the suffocating wealth and the aggressive hospitality.

His mother had shoved a vintage Cartier bangle and a heavy diamond tennis bracelet onto my wrist before I even took my coat off. Nova couldn't fight her jet lag and crashed early.

A nanny carefully scooped her up and carried her to one of the upstairs guest suites. Rowan and I stayed in the parlor, making small talk with his older relatives.

We were midlaugh when the estate manager stepped into the room. "Ma'am, he's arrived." Heavy, measured footsteps echoed against the hardwood floor.

I pasted on a flawless, polite smile and turned around, freezing at the sight of an unexpected guest. "Piper, let me introduce you," Rowan beamed, completely oblivious. "This is the uncle I'm always talking about." My face instantly froze.

I forced the corners of my mouth into a rigid, plastic curve. Julian's pitchblack eyes locked onto mine.

A slow, lethal smirk crawled across his face. "Is that right?" Rowan threw an arm around my waist, smiling at Julian. "Uncle Julian, the family never stopped nagging me to settle down.

Well, here she is. My wife, Piper." Julian didn't blink. His dark, suffocating gaze dragged over my face.

A low, rough vibration of a laugh rumbled in his chest. "Well… I certainly didn't see this coming." I played the part flawlessly.

I sipped my champagne, laughed at the right times, and kept my hands from shaking. Halfway through the night, the alcohol hit my bloodstream.

I excused myself, letting a maid guide me to the powder room. I splashed freezing water on my face, bracing my hands against the marble sink.

The second I stepped out of the bathroom, a massive, scorchinghot hand clamped around my wrist. The grip was bruising. He pulled me hard into an adjacent room.

My spine slammed hard against the wood of the heavy door. "You've got some nerve, Piper." Julian caged me against the wall, his voice a raw, vicious snarl in the dark. "You vanished for five goddamn years.

Not a single trace. Coldblooded." His massive frame suffocated my personal space. The heavy, intoxicating scent of cedar and expensive whiskey invaded my lungs.

The rough pad of his thumb dragged aggressively across my bottom lip. His eyes were completely black, dilated with something primal.

I heard the thick, audible sound of his swallow as his Adam's apple jerked. He dipped his head, his hot breath ghosting over my mouth. I turned my head slightly, avoiding his kiss.

His lips grazed my cheekbone. "Back off, 'Uncle' Julian." I shoved both hands against his rockhard chest, breaking his hold. I turned on my heel, reaching for the brass doorknob.

His heavy arms instantly banded around my waist from behind, dragging my back flush against his chest. "Piper…" "Piper..." His voice fractured, the raw, lingering affection in his tone leaving me in a momentary daze.

For a microsecond, my breath hitched. Then, the ice returned to my veins. My eyes became clear as I spoke. "What's this, 'Uncle'?

Don't tell me you're actually regretting it." Chapter 8